


While you were sleeping

by Meelah



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Aftercare, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meelah/pseuds/Meelah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Iron Bull is — ask and you shall receive. Dorian feels loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While you were sleeping

“I want—” Dorian says, and stops.

Sometimes it’s not easy to allow himself to ask, despite everything. 

The Iron Bull waits, patiently, not bothering to swat away the fly buzzing around his horns. The sun is setting on the Emerald Graves and they’re sitting the the edge of a clearing where they’re camping on this evening. Bull has chosen the shade, leaning on an old tree and polishing his axe, Dorian sitting on a rock catching the last rays of the sun.

“A fantasy, if you will,” Dorian says, starting again after a pause.

“Oh,” Bull says, raising an eyebrow and giving him a slow smirk,  a curve of the scarred lip.

Still, he lets silence sit between them, waiting. There is time, for this too.

“I want you to take me,” Dorian says and Bull’s smirk widens so Dorian has to stop and frown at him, for the sake of appearances. “Hush, you beast.” Making  it fond, though. “Take me, when I’m sleeping.”

“Huh,” Bull only says. His hands have stopped working his axe but it’s not set aside yet. 

“No preparation, no warning,” Dorian says and his jaw feels stiff, unable to relax yet. Bull won’t judge, won’t say no, but he might impose conditions. “And when I wake up, I want you to hold me still no matter how much I struggle.”

He looks Bull in the eye despite his flushing cheeks, knowing it to be a necessity.

“Not without preparation,” Bull says after a thoughtful pause. “But I can make it rough. Will that do?” 

Dorian nods, throat tightening at the thought. Oh yes, Bull understands what Dorian is after. His eyes fall to Bull’s big fingers for a few seconds while his mouth is looking for the words. “It will,” he says finally.

“Gonna be intense. You might get scared. Will you remember the watchword?” Bull asks. Hand squeezing the handle of the axe, fingers flexing, the only sign that his his internal mental state might not be as calm as it looks.

“I will,” Dorian says. “If I can’t speak, I’ll use ice.”

Bull is silent for few moments, finally setting his weapon against the tree.

“Alright,” he says. “But I’ll decide when.”

Dorian agrees.

***

Bull won’t be as predictable as putting the plan into action immediately, this much Dorian can guess. 

The wait becomes almost part of the foreplay, then. Lying in the warmth Bull's body leaves on the bed after he's gotten up in the morning, Dorian presses his face into it and imagines Bull above him. Awareness of Bull’s fingers stroking his chin when they lay together. Jolting awake at night to Bull’s big arm pulling him closer in his sleep, then taking forever to fall back asleep. 

Drifting to awareness in the morning already out of breath, disappointment heavy in his gut and anticipation making his cock ache.

***

In his arrogance Dorian had assumed that he would wake up before it happened, maybe even having to pretend to be sleeping. Had thought about it, imagining Bull’s weight on him, maybe feeling him stroke himself to full hardness before pushing Dorian’s legs apart. To underestimate the Iron Bull like that after all this time, what a laugh. 

No, there is no warning.

Dorian wakes up to blunt fingers pushing into him. He gasps, clenches, instinctively trying to get away but finds himself pinned to the bedroll by a strong hand pressing down between his shoulder blades. Flash of panic then, before his mind fully returns to his body from the fade.

“Bull—” Dorian gasps and the fingers curl inside him as a response.

Dorian’s body tries to arch but in vain. Fingers move again: deeper, faster, and Dorian cries out. Heart, pounding. Cock, _hard_. He struggles again, no longer in panic but now to feel Bull’s power over him. 

Rough, _oh_ _yes_.

Preparation is quickly over. 

Bull’s breathing feels loud in Dorian’s ears, the way he grunts during the short pause after removing his fingers. The sound of oil sliding between his hand and his cock makes Dorian whimper and he tries to lift his hips, only to be rewarded with a sharp smack on his ass.

Pressure on Dorian’s back lifts and then Bull yanks Dorian’s hips up forcefully, digs thumbs into his cheeks spreading them apart. Dorian doesn’t have time to react before Bull is pushing his cock in and—sweet Maker—it’s so much to take in one go. He moans loudly, louder than he means to, gripping his beddings desperate for some purchase.

Bull bottoms out, breath heavy as he pauses, readjusting his grip on Dorian’s hips.

“ _Shit_ ,” he says, voice hoarse with unguarded emotion, fingers digging deeper.

Dorian uncurls his fists, twists his body to look but Bull’s thrust rocks him, sends him face first into the bedroll. For a few moments Dorian can't concentrate on anything but feeling Bull's cock inside him, splitting him open. Bull knows his size and loves to spend time licking, slicking Dorian, opening him up—this, _this_ is nothing like those well prepared leisurely fucks he's gotten used to. Dorian feels the friction, the sweet almost painful _burn_ as Bull's cock drags against his insides.

Dorian remembers to struggle, then. This is part of the fantasy for him: imagining being taken by a stranger in his tent, fighting only to be brutally submitted to another's pleasure. He tries to twist again, to escape Bull's grip or to punch him, but Bull grabs his arm and twists and bends it until Dorian's shoulder is screaming.

"Still, mage," Bull growls, and gives him another ruthless thrust. 

Dorian cries out again, bracing his arm against the beddings, but moving is not possible anymore with his arm twisted. He gives into it, bending back towards Bull to ease the pain on his shoulder and Bull grabs his hair, blunt fingers digging into his scalp. This way he brings Dorian off the bedroll, close to his chest and the angle forces his cock even deeper in.

"Oh, _yeah_ ," Bull huffs, mouth close to Dorian's ear.

Thrust, then another.

Dorian's thighs are trembling from the strain, his neck tight fighting against Bull's grip in his hair.

Bull's breath, uneven, stubble scraping against Dorian's jaw.

Dorian's cock, almost painfully hard, slapping against his stomach each time his body shakes with the force of Bull's thrusts.

"Oh—" Bull's head bows in pleasure, his fist in Dorian's hair tightening. Pulls Dorian down, hard.

They both cry out when Bull comes. Bull, his voice rough, growling, he moans as his cock pulses inside Dorian. Dorian's moan is long, restrained, only quietening when Bull's cock stills.

Both, still for a moment, gasping for breath. Bull's heart beating so fast.

Then Bull  lets go of Dorian's arm, fingers smooth the black hair.

"Want to come?" he murmurs in Dorian's ear.

"Please." Hardly even audible. But when Bull tries to move him, he murmurs: "No. Like this."

Dorian's head on Bull's shoulder then, Bull's hand on his cock. Few strokes is all it takes and Dorian comes, body curling, pulling in sharp breaths.

Bull holds him afterwards on his lap, stroking his hair, massaging the aching shoulder.

Only later can Bull express his appreciation in words.

"Couldn't believe you took my cock like that," Bull muses with a revered voice, laying on his back with Dorian's head resting on his shoulder, arm around him. "Watching you stretch around my cock like that..."

Dorian grins lazily, wants to say something snippy— _how little you think of me, amatus_ —but doesn't. 

Instead, he lifts his head to kiss Bull.

Dorian realises then how he's gotten used to this, almost without noticing. Any other lover in the past would have wanted to talk about Dorian's request—if not before then afterwards. Some would have been worried, what kind of sick mind would request something like this, you don't _really_ want it, do you? Is there something you want to tell me? Some, despite being turned on by it, would have taunted him about it after—laughing, teasing, yet the bruises they'd leave would have been an indication of not so unwilling participation. Easier to shift the blame, not to admit one's own dark desires.

Bull won't ask, won't laugh. Instead he admires the bruises, kisses them, strokes them gently. Smiles when he sees Dorian watching. "Did you feel how hard you made me?" "The face you made when I—" left speechless in his adoration.

Is this what unconditional love is?

Dorian smiles, closes his eyes. And says:

"I want—"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [birdscameflying](http://birdscameflying.tumblr.com) on tumblr. You can reblog this story [here](http://birdscameflying.tumblr.com/post/144411846276/while-you-were-sleeping).


End file.
